What If?
by neomaxizoomdweebie
Summary: (slash) What if Draco had the chance to speak to pre-Hogwarts Harry and convince him that he was worthy of his friendship? Where would Harry be now? Silly but fun!


Title: What if…?  
  
Author: Miss T  
  
Genre: Humor/AU  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Warning: Slytherin!Harry and Slash, woo hoo!   
  
A/N: This is just a little project I done for my English class… decided to type it up and share it with you guys. It's a bit dumb, really!  
  
The blonde boy sat with his legs dangling over the edge of the bookshelf, his back leaning against the rather large book he appeared to have pop out of. Frowning and looking up, he seemed to realise he was inside a larger-than-life dusty library, and nearly fell off the shelve when a rather large cartoon picture of his arch-enemy smiled back toothily at him from another book.  
  
Groping around for an explanation of his predicament, he felt that the group of books he was leaning not-so-casually against were all very well read, worn in the corners and covered in massive fingerprints.  
  
"How… savage." He muttered quietly to himself. Books are instruments of God – they should be taken care of.  
  
"Excuse me?" A voice from behind the furthest away book asked shrilly.   
  
Silence.  
  
"Who's there?" It asked more clearly.  
  
The pale boy recognised that voice straight away. But it seemed… different somehow. Grinning to himself and folding his arms, he leaned casually against the bright yellow book behind him. This should be a laugh.  
  
"Potter." He grunted.  
  
A small face with very messy black hair, round glasses and an unmistakable lightning bolt scar marring his forehead peered cautiously out from behind the book.   
  
"Who are you?" He demanded.  
  
The blonde boy frowned and looked Harry Potter up and down. "What do you mean, who am I? It's me you silly prat." He said sneering, leaning on his hands as his body twisted round to get a good look at Harry.  
  
Harry shifted on his feet uncomfortably and stepped out from behind the book. The blonde boy raised his eyebrows and smirked. "Potter, Potter, Potter – look at you!" He beamed, feeling smugger by the second. Harry did not look any more older than ten or eleven, his clothes were clearly ten sizes too large for him, his hair was covered in dust and his glasses were held together with a very unattractive plaster.   
  
"Stop saying my name like that!" Harry retorted, feeling extremely awkward, looking at the lazy expression on the pointed features of the blonde boy, who looked at least fifteen or sixteen.   
  
"And who are you, anyway?" Harry stammered.  
  
The blonde smirked again. It seemed to be a facial expression he possessed all of the time.  
  
"You really have no idea, do you, Potter?" He sighed, amused with the puzzled frown playing against Harry's forehead.   
  
"Fine… if you're not going to tell me. Suit yourself!" Harry said shrilly, turning on his heel.  
  
"Hold your horses, Potter." The blonde boy sniffed, rolling his eyes.  
  
Harry turned around again, the tips of his ears slightly pink with frustration.  
  
"You do know who you are, don't you?" The pale boy asked uncertainly.   
  
Harry frowned. "What sort of question is that? Of course I know who I am!"   
  
The blonde rolled his eyes again. "I should really rephrase that." He said thoughtfully as he stood up, revelling in the fact that he was a good head and a half taller than Harry.   
  
"I should have said, you do know what you are, don't you?" He raised an eyebrow as Harry looked down and seemed to be inspecting his arms and legs.   
  
"Errr… I'm Harry… just, Harry." He replied dumbly – causing the pale boy to roll his eyes again for the umpteenth time. Harry was sure they would end up getting stuck there in the back of his head.  
  
"Yes, well, that's what I've been telling them all along, Potter." The blonde sighed, somewhat pompously. "Well…'Just Harry'. You're a wizard. Did you know that?"   
  
Harry frowned deeper and fiddled with the bottom of his oversized t-shirt. This boy had to be having him on.   
  
"I'm not kidding." The blonde snapped, causing Harry to widen his eyes and drop the frayed piece of material.  
  
"I'm a… a wizard?" He asked shrilly, in his hilariously unbroken voice.  
  
The blonde smirked and raised an eyebrow. "Yes, yes, Potter. You're a bloody wizard. Golden Boy, Hero, Mr Bow Down To Me Because I'm So Ruddy Broken and Bruised and My Story Is So Tragic blah blah blah…" He rushed impatiently, waving a hand in the air.  
  
Harry frowned again. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. "Err, well. If you say so."   
  
Now it was the blonde's turn to frown. "Are you always this submissive, Potter?" He asked.  
  
"Try living with the Dursley's for ten years." Harry muttered miserably, looking down at his hands.  
  
"The who?" The blonde demanded.  
  
"Oh… never mind." Harry replied, his face going redder by the second. Then the blonde suddenly realised.  
  
"Ah, those ghastly muggles you stay with?" He asked.  
  
"Muggles?" Harry asked with raised eyebrows.  
  
"Non-magic people… or…" The blonde grinned slyly. "…Mudbloods if you will. Yes, Mudblood is the appropriate term for them."  
  
Harry laughed and shook his head. "Wait a second, you still haven't told me who you are yet!"  
  
The blonde smirked again and puffed out his chest aristocratically. Deep down, although too proud to admit it, he had always been jealous of Harry's two best friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Not that he wanted to be like them, God forbid, but he had always wished that *he* had met Harry first. He did technically, but he didn't actually know that it was the Boy Who Lived getting his robes fitted at the same time as him. If he knew, he would have been much more friendly. The blonde had always wanted Harry on his side. Causing destruction in Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry would have been so much better with the one person who had witnessed the ultimate realities of the world's darkest magic.   
  
*Yes.* The blonde thought silently to himself. *Harry would have done well in Slytherin.*  
  
"Well?" Harry asked impatiently.  
  
The blonde inhaled a large breath before looking into Harry's eyes. The future was now in his hands.  
  
"You'll start to learn that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You most definitely do NOT want to go making friends with the wrong sort. Namely Gryffindor or Hufflepuff material." He said with a swift shake of his hand. "I can help you there." He outstretched a slender pale hand to the smaller boy.  
  
"Gryffindor? Hufflepuff?" Harry asked uncertainly. The blonde rolled his eyes (again) and continued to keep his hand outstretched.  
  
"Houses." He grunted. "School houses at your new school. They're a… bad sort." He finished lamely, knowing that it was a downright lie.   
  
"I'm going to a different school?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrows.  
  
"Oh, for Merlin's sake Potter. Yes, you are going to Hogwarts where you will learn magic and how to become a trained Wizard." The blonde said, his voice very impatient.  
  
But to his absolute delight, Harry reached out, albeit cautiously, and shook his hand.  
  
"I'm Malfoy." The blonde said proudly, grinning. "Draco Malfoy."  
  
Harry smiled back, and looked up at Draco. *The wrong sort?* He thought to himself. *Talk about calling the kettle black. This guy looks like he's been lurking around in the dark. His skin is practically transparent.*  
  
"You'll be told many things about me, Potter." Draco sighed, turning and looking at the books behind him. "You simply have to ignore them. Clearly, we're friends now so it really shouldn't matter. I trust you."   
  
Harry turned around and glared at the books with Draco. "Bad things?" He asked quietly.  
  
Draco shrugged. "Things. Mostly absolute bollocks… but never mind. The important thing is to remember what I said. You'll do well in Slytherin… Harry." Even his name sounded foreign on his tongue. But Draco was loving every second of this.  
  
"What will happen if I do believe these… 'things'?" Harry asked, staring ahead. Draco scowled.  
  
"Then we can never be friends. You'll end up doing a lot of… horrible things to me in years to come."   
  
Harry now looked up at the taller boy who had his arms folded crossly, his eyebrows knitted together in a tight scowl. "What things?" He asked curiously.  
  
"Well, for one thing you'll turn me into a dirty great ferret." Draco shuddered and closed his arms tighter around himself.   
  
"I… what?!" Harry gasped.  
  
"Well, technically you didn't do it – but it was your fault." Draco drawled lazily, knowing that it was… actually his fault. He decided to keep that little hitch to himself.  
  
"Oh." Harry replied quietly. "Sorry." He mumbled.  
  
"Well, you bloody well should be. A ferret of all things!" Draco mumbled, looking down. "I hate ferrets." He finished darkly.  
  
"Well, you know that it won't happen now. We're friends, aren't we?" Harry smiled, trying to catch Draco's eye.  
  
Draco grinned and lifted his chin. "You're absolutely right, Harry."  
  
Harry smiled and turned slowly round on the spot, looking at the various items, and pictures tacked to a wall in front of them. "Where are we, anyway?" He asked.   
  
Draco motioned to the pictures, then to the books beside him. "Well clearly we are in some sort of worship ground. Dedicated to you, Golden Boy."   
  
Harry frowned and pointed to a picture on the wall behind a gap in the books. "What about this?"   
  
Draco turned around and yelped as a rather large version of himself and Harry glared back at him, each in their Quidditch Uniform. Before he knew it he was grinning and raising an eyebrow. *Hey, I look pretty sharp.*  
  
"I never noticed that before. How… dashing." Draco smiled, trying to reach out for the wall. "…Or… that?" Draco lay the tips of his fingers onto the Gryffindor crest on Harry's Quidditch robes, although it didn't seem to be Gryffindor anymore. It was swirling in a mass of colour – green, red, silver and gold… his whole uniform doing the same, as if confused on what colour to take.  
  
"What's happening?" A small voice breathed behind Draco. But Draco didn't notice, he was too wrapped up in the amazing metamorphosis of colour. Draco's eyes drew huge as the swirling ceased, promptly stopping on silver and green, the huge Slytherin serpent staring unmercifully back at him. What he also noticed was that Harry's indifferent glare had changed into a tight, snobbish sneer. Draco blinked twice and turned round.  
  
"Potter… did you…" Draco began, but before the other bemused boy could answer, Draco found himself plummeting through colour, much like the sensation he had felt when he was sitting alone in the common room before he seemed to be dumped in this little alternative world. Silver and green… then black.  
  
~~~+~~~  
  
"Draco, what on EARTH are you doing?" A dull, almost as lazy as his, drawl came from his left side.  
  
Draco felt his nails digging into soft leather – his eyes clamped shut and his body ridged, sitting on something warm and soft. Whatever it was squirmed underneath him.  
  
Opening his eyes cautiously, Draco caught his breath as he realised a rather large pair of cold green eyes were skimming over his face questioningly.  
  
It was Harry Potter. But not the Harry Potter he had taunted and had been taunted by for the past five years. This Harry was different.  
  
For one thing, he was in the Slytherin common room – wearing Slytherin robes. Draco frowned and tried to digest the permanent sneer that seemed to be attached to Harry's lips.   
  
"Err, hello?" Harry asked again.  
  
"S-sorry." Draco mumbled, replying with the best Malfoy-Smug-Look he could muster. "Must have, you know… err… sorry."   
  
Harry frowned and leaned back on the sofa, causing Draco to fall back into him. He was sitting on Harry's knee! And Harry's hand… was dangerously high up on his thigh…  
  
"Good Merlin, Draco – you look like you've swallowed a Weasley." Harry mumbled. Now he was bringing his hand up to Draco's face to wipe a stray strand of silvery hair away from Draco's forehead. This was getting stranger by the minute!  
  
"Anyway…" Harry sighed, resting his hand on Draco's leg again. "Where were we?"  
  
For a startling second Draco thought that Harry was going to plant one on him, but let out a deep sigh of relief when all he done was sigh too and ran a hand through his thick unruly hair.   
  
"Ah yes." He murmured, smiling that… rather sexy… smile. Now was Draco's turn to panic again, for Harry's mouth was getting closer to his own. But before Draco had time to react fully, he felt Harry quickly dart his tongue inside his mouth, shifting open his lips and kissing him very deeply indeed.  
  
Draco groaned soundly in the back of his throat. *You're enjoying this, Draco, you sick bastard!* He thought to himself, bringing his hands up to touch Harry's face, who seemed to make a rather attractive growling noise in reply.  
  
"Can't you two go into your room to do that? I mean, that's what Snape made it for." A high pitched voice filled with irritation said from across the room.   
  
Harry pried his lips away from a panting and shock ridden Draco, who still sat on his lap facing him, watching him with new-found respect.  
  
"Fuck off back to your room, dog face." Harry sneered. Draco widened his eyes in shock. He had never heard Harry swear before. Turning around slowly, he came to meet the rather red and very angry face of Pansy Parkinson.  
  
"Well… I never…!" She stammered, stomping her foot and placing her hands on her hips.   
  
"Well I never!" Harry sing-songed, mocking the tone of her voice. "Fuck off!"   
  
Pansy pursed her lips and swished round, her pony tail whipping in the air as she marched back up to the girls dorms.  
  
"… Harry!" Draco turned to face the other boy. He grinned wickedly. The new Harry was fantastically evil. Perfect.  
  
"Where were we?" Harry sighed, reaching in to kiss a very eager Draco.  
  
~fin~ 


End file.
